The moon is set in ice my friend

The heavens sparkle and shine

The old guy staggering in the cold

Looks out at the far-divine.

Money for food or money for heat

He gathers his coat around his feet

And he dreams of the heaven he knew as a child

When everything was lovely and everything was wild.

So, you, look at anything except this screen

Raise your voice and scream

That the emptiness

That infects your heart and disturbs your mind

And stymies your art,

Will pass with nothing, nothing, left behind

Except the vaguest, most beautiful

Passingly musical rhyme. 

That will inspire your haunted

Keenest mind

To find:

All that is left

Behind.